


Choice

by Tish



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Medical Experimentation, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8169461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: Alone and at the mercy of Mirror Spock, McCoy contemplates the fate that awaits him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissHammer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissHammer/gifts).



McCoy traced his fingers over the skin above the breastbone, wincing slightly as he felt the implant. The memory of the jolts of electric pain clouded his mind for a moment. He held his breath, nausea subsiding.

When he opened his eyes again, he turned to the view port and stared out at the dull grey plating of the opposite side of the station's inner ring. Craning his neck down, he could just make out the blackness of space, out beyond the station's navigation lighting. No stars were visible, they drowned out by the glare. He rested his head against the cool of the window pane and tried to remember the stars, and all the worlds of light and hope they shone upon.

He thought of the Earth, far beyond those invisible stars, warm and blue. The memory of sitting with a beer by a summer lake held no comfort for him. That Earth – _his_ Earth - was on the other side of this cockamamie mirror universe, and his friends were scattered somewhere in this nightmare.

Slumping to the floor, McCoy thought of Uhura, and what unimaginable horrors she was being put through. He knew it was chauvinistic to single out the plight of one crew member against her companions, but the chill in his mind wouldn't leave him. He hoped against hope that Scotty and Jim were even still alive. If anyone could get back home, they could figure it out and rescue their friends.

He flinched as a memory surfaced. He'd been writhing in pain on a cold, clinical floor. Struggling to look up at that bearded demon, he had swallowed down his sobs and begged Spock. “For the love of God, please don't let my friends be hurt. I'll do anything, just make sure they are safe.”

The other Spock had peered down at him quizzically, his voice soft and curious. “Doctor McCoy, I cannot guarantee the safety of anyone not directly in my charge. I can only bear influence on their captors, some more successfully than others. Nonetheless, I shall endeavour to encourage civil treatment of your companions. ”

McCoy had forgot himself for a moment and muttered, “Damn Vulcan and your word salad.”

For a moment, Spock's eyebrow arch was just so much like _him_.

 

The shocks had continued. “Docility training,” Spock had said, his voice matter-of-fact, like he was reading off a checklist.

McCoy knew he'd get a shock every time he went near the compartment door to try to escape, and sometimes there'd be a shock just to remind him of his place. One time, he couldn't quite remember when, McCoy had tried to gouge out the implant with his own fingers. Spock's sigh seemed to signal disappointment as he sent a bolt of agony through McCoy's body.

 

Lost in his thoughts, McCoy recoiled as Spock suddenly appeared before him and knelt down beside him. He scowled as he realised he'd banged his head against the window and started to rub the side of his head.

“Doctor, attempting to escape through this window would be a foolhardy move. I would suggest wearing a space suit. At least the helmet would save you from bruising as you try to smash your way out,” Spock's voice was emotionless as usual, yet McCoy sensed a tiny sliver of amusement somewhere in there.

Spock remained straight-faced as he looked at McCoy, quirking an eyebrow as Bones glared back at him. Slowly, Spock raised his hand to McCoy's face, slender fingers seeking the placement for the mind-meld. “Doctor, do you remember when I first did this? I sensed something. Something I wish to investigate further.”

McCoy flinched back slightly, with a soft thud as his head hit the window again. He battled the raging panic that began to rise in him and tried to breathe evenly, submitting to the mind-meld.

Spock's voice was calm as he spoke. “You think of my counterpart. Fascinating. He infuriates you, yet you regard him with deep affection. I sense your denial, but you know it is true. It should not shame you to admit such feelings.”

“I just want to go home with my friends, damn it,” McCoy muttered, unable to look away from Spock's eyes.

“Doctor McCoy, I believe you forget that you chose to remain here with me. To assist me,” Spock replied coolly.

“I. I don't remember that. I just want my friends to be safe,” McCoy tried to slip out from Spock's grasp, yet found himself pressing his head against Spock's fingers.

Spock's voice was hypnotically gentle, “I wish to investigate the similarities and differences between our universes. There is a wealth of information to be had in understanding the psychological and physical makeup of the people of your universe. As a doctor, you will prove to be an invaluable asset and partner in this investigation.”

“You want me to be your two-legged lab rat,” McCoy said flatly.

“An interesting turn of phrase, but essentially, yes,” Spock answered as he rose and turned to leave.

“What exactly will I be consenting to?” McCoy demanded.

“I am currently designing the parameters of the test. You will be prepared as soon as possible, Doctor.” Spock's reply did nothing to soothe McCoy as he walked away.

Alone again, a chill ran down McCoy's spine. He pressed a finger against his breastbone and wished impossible things.

 

Lying down on the medical couch, Bones listened to the chirps and clicks of the medical computer. A couple of medical staff stood by him and ran medical tricorders over him.

“Just a routine medical,” Bones had muttered to himself before they began. 

The jab of a hypospray jolted his attention back to the present. Glaring up at the doctors, McCoy felt a sensation of slipping as numbness washed over him. Paralysis overtaking his system, he turned his head slightly as Spock moved forward with a nod of his head. McCoy felt his shirt pulled up to expose his abdomen and stomach. He heard the soft hum of a scalpel and felt it slice through his skin. Unable to move, but in no pain, he felt his flesh pushed aside and the hands reaching in to explore his insides. Cold metal pressed against his internal organs.

“Just a routine medical,” Bones silently said to himself as terror gripped him. He knew he wasn't being injured by the procedure, but he raged at having to feel everything that what happening.

McCoy's sight was firmly locked upon Spock's face. The Vulcan nodded, and McCoy felt something smooth and cold placed inside his abdominal cavity. The soft humming of the scalpel sealed his skin again and the hypospray touched against him. He slipped into blackness.

 

McCoy's senses slowly crawled back to the light. He felt his heart beat steadily, and the softness of the mattress underneath him. A soft quilted blanket covered his naked body, keeping him warm and comfortable.

With aching slowness, he began to move his hand, gingerly feeling the scarring across his body. Blinking in the light, McCoy moved the quilt back and sat up slightly. The doctors hadn't administered any healing agent, and the long scar stood white against his flesh.

He heard himself groan. “Why?”

“Because you are weak, Doctor. Logic dictates that the strong control the weak. It is right that you be under my control. This experiment will continue to be most enlightening.” Spock's voice was as dispassionate and clinical as ever.

“What did you do? What did you put in me?” McCoy asked warily, one hand covering the scar.

“An addition to your reproductive functions. Your body will provide sustenance to the implant,” Spock answered.

“Sustenance to the implant? You make it sound like I'm carrying a –,” McCoy stopped abruptly at Spock's head tilt. He felt his voice raise in volume. “You green-blooded ghoul. Have you impregnated me?”

“Not at this stage. Your body will adapt to the implant and the fetal tissue will be introduced at a later date.” Spock checked a computer panel. “You are a healthy individual, so there is no reason the procedure shouldn't be successful.”

“The hell it will. I'll jump out of that window before you do that. Space helmet or not!” McCoy growled.

“If you wish to be restrained during the test period, I can arrange that. The choice is yours, Doctor.” Spoke replied.

“Choice my rear end!” McCoy spat out the words. “I cooperated to help my friends, but you have gone beyond any agreement.”

“Nevertheless, you still have the choice of being restrained or freely moving about this compartment. Your scientific curiosity is too keenly honed to not want to participate fully in this experiment,” Spock's voice had an insistent, hypnotic edge and McCoy worked hard to resist it.

“Stop it. It's a freak show, damn you,” McCoy buried his face in his hands.

 

“I shall leave you to recuperate further. I hope you consider things carefully,” Spock's voice was soft as velvet, despite the lingering threat.

As Spock withdrew, McCoy took a long look around the room. Nothing was heavy enough to damage the window, there was not enough water to drown himself, no anchor points for a noose. The only tangible option was electrocution, if he could open the computer panel.

What would the others do in his place? At what point would they say enough, accept defeat on their own terms. He knew he couldn't speak for them, but he could speak for himself. He could only choose eternal blackness.


End file.
